


live years within a night

by lydiamaartins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiamaartins/pseuds/lydiamaartins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was vaguely aware of a lot of things: the creak in the staircase above her head as it changed, the quiet festivities from down the hall at breakfast, and, most disconcerting, footsteps coming her way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	live years within a night

**Author's Note:**

> i actually love this a lot wow.

The one quality about Hogwarts that really irked Lily Evans to no end was how everything echoed.

The school itself was so magnificently huge, that sound seemed to flourish from every corner. Sometimes, it was nice, like when she was patrolling the corridors after dark with Remus, and they could hear the footsteps of anyone out of bed, even if they were three floors up. However, it was really bothering her today, because she knew that anyone even remotely near the nook in the first floor corridor could hear her crying.

She wasn’t even just crying either. She had gone the full nine yards: crusted mascara on her cheeks and cluttered around her swollen, red eyes, snot on both of her sleeves and her collar, mussed hair, rumpled sweater, and heavy, hiccuping sobs escaping her mouth every few seconds. She couldn’t help it. She had barely managed to make her way out of the Great Hall, nearly vomiting into a poor first year’s oatmeal as she stumbled out, her face whiter than the letter clenched in her fist.

The letter had now been reduced to a multitude of ripped pieces that almost resembled the snowflakes falling outside. Lily squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath, her composure cracking on the exhale. Snowflakes, because it was Christmas Holiday, and she was one of the eight students not nestled in by a cozy fire in the comforts of their own home.

She wasn’t home because of the letter she had received this morning, letter no. 5. No, she wasn’t home because of the content of letter no. 3. The letter in which her father had explained that ‘treatment’ for the ‘obstacle’ would be happening over Christmas Holidays, and she shouldn’t come home, because it would put unnecessary stress on her. That she should just stay at school and focus on studying for her ‘newts’, even though they weren't for another year. That everything would be okay by the time she came home for summer holidays.

She remembered getting letter no. 1 and spending the rest of the day sobbing on Mary McDonald’s shoulder. Words like ‘your mother’ and ‘cancer’ shouldn’t be in a sentence together. Especially not along with words like ‘stage four’ and ‘invasive’. Afterward, however, Lily had dried her eyes and reminded herself that Rose Evans was a fighter. She could get through this. She would.

Letter no. 2 and no. 4 were both very similar, vague descriptions of the treatments and what they were doing. Sweet nothings about how her mother was ‘strong in spirit’ and ‘inspirational to us all’ were littered amongst stay in school, not do anything rash, because everything was fine.

Mary and Marlene hadn’t wanted to leave her alone. They had both been willing to stay to keep her company and keep her from ripping her hair out, but she had politely told them to get their arses to the carriages. Their families wanted them home. So, she was alone, of the three Gryffindors still at Hogwarts. And she was sitting in a dark corner, alone with her thoughts and the remnants of a paper that told her that her mother was dead.

Dead.

_Dead._

The word tasted sour in her mouth, like drinking orange juice directly after brushing your teeth. She shivered involuntarily, and wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. She was vaguely aware of the  absurdity in this action, considering they were still going to fall, personifying her aching sadness like rain on a cool window. However, she was vaguely aware of a lot of things: the creak in the staircase above her head as it changed, the quiet festivities from down the hall at breakfast, and, most disconcerting, footsteps coming her way. She scrambled farther back into the corner, put out the light on her wand, and held her breath, hoping whoever it was would go away.

“Evans?” came a familiar voice. Lily bit back a groan. Why him? He wasn’t even supposed to be here!

She squeezed her eyes shut and repeated in her head _please don’t see me please don’t see me please don’t see me._ The footsteps grew louder, and she started to see the soft glow of a wand light. She wanted to scream with frustration. Of all the sodding people in the school, it had to be him.

“Evans?” he called again. The light was getting closer, brighter. Lily let out a quiet sob. The light started moving faster, until she could see the outline of his face. There was nowhere for her to go now, so she slumped against the wall and dropped her head into her hands.

“Evans?” he whispered. She looked up. He was standing about five feet away, a concerned look on his face. Lily almost rolled her eyes. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

Lily glared at him. “Sod off, Potter,” she snapped. She folded her fingers across her knees and pointedly looked away, choosing instead to stare at the wall.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “You look--and no offense--like you just crawled out of Hell. What’s wrong?”

Lily laughed bitterly. “Nothing, Potter. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re Lily freaking Evans, prefect, top student, and you never have a hair out of place, mentally or physically. You’re not ‘fine’.” Lily looked up at him, expecting a look of scorn, but he looked genuinely concerned. He moved closer and kneeled down in front of her, brown eyes searching her face. A knot formed in her stomach, and she couldn’t explain why.

“Well...I guess I’m just….” she trailed off, searching for a word, “um...frustrated.”

“Sexually?” he asked, a hint of the signature James Potter smirk on his face.

Lily’s face flushed. A roar sounded in her ears. She raised a shaking hand and slapped him across the face. The sound resounded and echoed around the corridor. “Go to hell, Potter,” she hissed, using all the contempt she could muster. She searched his face for any shred of anger or scorn, but all she could find in his brown eyes was confusion. She dropped her hand to her side and her head into her knees. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

She heard a rustling sound and then felt James’ shoulder press against hers. She looked up and saw that he was sitting next to her, his knee lightly touching her, that damn look of concern drawing up his features. “Lily,” he whispered, putting his hand on her knee, “what happened?”

Lily squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head for a second, before quickly raising it back up and looking at him. “My mum…” she whispered hoarsely, more tears pooling in her eyes.

James blanched. It wasn’t much of a secret amongst the Gryffindor sixth years that Lily’s mum was sick, not after she had exploded on Sirius about it in the common room last month. However, none of them had ever thought she was actually die. The thought of death felt so foreign to them, especially when they experienced it so few and far between. “Oh... _Lily_ ,” he whispered, a deep feeling of pity curling through his stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

Lily almost laughed. “It’s not your fault,” she closed her eyes. “It’s the cancer.” She blinked more tears out of her eyes. “It’s always the damn cancer.”

James shook his head in disbelief and slowly put his arm around her shoulder. To his surprise, Lily leaned into him heavily, her face buried in his shoulder. Quiet sobs wracked her small body, and James wrapped both of his arms around her.

Lily looked up at him. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

James stiffened. “I...I guess...I don’t know?” He started pulling his arms away, and hurriedly said, “I can stop if you want, I mean--”

Lily shook her head to cut him off. “Don’t stop. It’s nice,” she managed a wary smile. “What I meant was, why are you even trying? I thought you hated me after what happened last year. With Severus.”

James looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. “You thought I hated you?” he asked. He almost sounded sad, and Lily was filled with this unexplainable guilt. “I could never hate you, Lily.”

Lily swallowed, she was sure her face was flushed again. “Well, you spent five years never leaving me alone, and then this year, you rarely ever talked to me,” she whispered.

“I was just trying to give you some space,” James said softly, his index finger lightly brushing against her knuckle. “Especially after you found out about your mum, I thought the last thing you needed was some prat following you around and asking you out continually.”

Lily giggled, which brought a smile to James’ face. Lily felt her cheeks heat up again, what was wrong with her? She pursed her lips together and smiled lightly. “I never thought you were a prat,” she murmured. James gave her a doubtful look, which made her laugh for real. “Maybe a git, but never a prat,” she took his hand in her own and squeezed it, “it was always kind of endearing.”

James grinned. “Sirius is never going to believe that.”

“Well, he’s only in the Great Hall, it shouldn’t take much time to find a way,” she shrugged. Then, upon realizing something, she frowned. “Wait, why aren’t the two of you at your house? Isn’t that where you both spend the holidays?”

James grimaced. “Yes, but my parent’s are having a,” he held up his fingers for air quotes, “romantic holiday” he put them down “in France because their twentieth anniversary was last week.” He grimaced before adding, “Probably shagging on some ridiculously expensive couch as we speak.”

Lily whacked him across the arm. “Potter!”

“What?” he grinned. “It’s true!”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, hesitant and soft. James wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her closer, so her face was buried in his chest and he could smell the scent of apples in her hair.

“Me too,” he whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss into her hair and let his hand smooth over the red curls. Lily held tight to his embrace, only letting go when his arms disentangled themselves from her. She pulled away gently, and took his outstretched hand. She stood up on two slightly wobbly legs, and looked over at him a little fearfully.

“Can we just go to the common room? I don’t want to face breakfast anymore,” she looked away, embarrassed.

James smiled and nodded, looping his fingers through hers. They set off at a slow pace, taking time to look at everything they had overlooked in the past six years. While admiring a painting of flowers floating down a slow stream, James put his arm back around Lily, letting her snuggle in his shoulders.

“I feel older,” she looked at him. “Do you know what I mean?”

Surprisingly, James could relate. “I feel like I aged at least five years, maturity wise anyway.”

Lily laughed, but it caught low in her throat. She swallowed and put her hand on the painting, tracing the path of the roses as they rode lazily down the stream. “I still don’t feel old enough to live without my mum,” she confessed softly.

James cupped her face in his hands and turned her eyes to meet his. “You probably never will,” he affirmed. “But that’s okay. Because you have people to help you through it. Mary, Marlene, Remus, hell, even me,” he kissed her forehead lightly. “I’ll help you through it, Lily. You can always talk to me.”

Lily smiled and sniffed quietly. “Thanks, James.”

James couldn’t help but beam at the use of his first name. He offered her his hand again, and she took it. With one final look at the painting, she set off walking with James Potter.

Lily Evans may have been motherless, but she was not afraid.

And with that thought, she leaned into him, and they let their footsteps echo throughout the castle.


End file.
